PROLOGUE:

JO TERE SANG – JEET GANGULLI, MUSTAFA ZAHID.

Her long black hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, with a few strands framing and partly covering her face. Her lips were tinted a soft red.

She wore a deep burgundy gown that hugged her figure before flowing gently to the floor. A matching piece of fabric draped over her shoulders and trailed behind her like a cape. A small burgundy clutch rested in one hand, while strappy heels completed her look.

JO TERE SANG KAATI RAATEIN, JIYE JO HASEEN LAMHEIN

JO TERE SANG BAATI BAATEIN, BUNE JO HASEEN SAPNE

WO TO HAI ABHI WOHI, KHADE BANKE SAWALI

A faint hickey marked her neck, standing out against her fair skin.

The master suite was bathed in the faint glow of moonlight.

On the balcony stood a man, his broad back accentuating the taut muscles beneath his black shirt. His sleeves were elegantly rolled up, revealing the veins running along his forearms, while the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, giving him a rugged and effortlessly attractive look.

A cigarette smoldered between his fingers. He took a slow drag, then exhaled, letting the smoke drift into the cold night air.

He could feel her presence behind him. How could he not? After all, she was the sole reason for the fire burning in his chest.

Yet she stood there, unaware that she had just stepped into the lion’s den, one where she would soon be devoured.

He exhaled another plume of smoke as her heels clicked against the marble floor. With every drag he took, she stepped closer.

Neither of them spoke.

Their faces remained unreadable.

But beneath those emotionless expressions lay two very different things: sheer anger in his eyes and stubborn defiance in hers.

She placed her clutch on the side table and stepped closer until she was only inches behind him, enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body.

Without a second thought, she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

For a brief moment, he froze.

Then, in the next instant, his hand closed around hers. He twisted her wrist until a sharp yelp escaped her lips. Before she could react, he pulled her around and pinned her between his broad frame and the balcony railing.

MANGA JO, CHAHA JO, DEKHA JO, MILA WOHI

KAHA JO, SICHA JO, KIYA JO, HUA WOHI

The cigarette remained between his lips, its faint ember casting a dim glow across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the darkness in his eyes.

His eyes remained fixed on her face. She didn’t flinch or pull away; instead, she met his stare with the same intensity.

Slowly, she reached up, plucked the cigarette from between his lips, and flicked it away with a sharp snap. He watched her every movement carefully.

Then her fingers gently grazed his lips. Her eyes remained fixed on them as she spoke in a low voice, while he studied every detail of her face.

“Jab mere lab gulaab ki pankhudiyon jaise narm-o-naazuk hain, to phir kyun dhuein mein lipta who zehr apne honton se lagate ho?” (When my lips are as soft and delicate as rose petals, then why do you press that poison wrapped in smoke to your lips?)

One of her hands rested on his shoulder while the other continued to graze his lips.

Then, he caught her chin in a firm grip and tilted her face toward his, forcing her to meet his gaze.

When he spoke, his voice came out lower and rougher than before.

“Agar ek baar in labon ki talab lag gayi, toh phir kaabu mein rehna mushkil hoga… AAPKE liye.” (If you become addicted to these lips even once, then staying in control will become difficult… for you.)

She didn’t hesitate, her lips pressed to his. He had expected it; that raw hunger had already burned in her gaze. Yet he did not kiss back, not yet. Her eyes held his, steadily, while her lips moved softly against his, savoring him, leaving her taste, without caring that her lipstick had smeared.

His grip on her chin loosened, but she didn’t falter. Their eyes stayed locked, and still he refused her. In defiance, she bit hard at his lips, yet he gave no reaction.

Then, suddenly, her breath hitched as his fingers tightened on her chin. His other hand slid to her waist, pulling her against him. He drew her face closer; a growl rumbled from within him, his breath brushing against her smeared lips as the words came out, strained.

“Yaad rakhne, Jaana! Pehli baar maine tumhe agaah kiya tha. Magar doosri baar tum khud mere paas laut aayi ho. Ab is baar, tumhe khud se alag karna… shayad mere ikhtiyar me bhi nahi.” (Remember this, Jaana. The first time, I warned you. But this time, you came back to me on your own. Now, separating you from me… perhaps that is no longer within my control either.)

RAAHON MEIN MUJHKO KHUSHI, PHOOLON KE JAISI MILI

HOTHON PE MERE HANSI, KALIYON KE JAISE KHILI

With that, he crashed his lips against hers, kissing without restraint, as if feeding an addiction. The kiss shifted into an intimate chewing. She had no time to kiss him back, just as his teeth clamped harder on her lip. Her gasp parted her mouth.

Before she could draw breath, he swallowed it, his mouth devouring hers. He consumed her like a beast.

Then he pulled back, his gaze dragging over her form from head to toe, stripping her with his eyes alone. She steadied herself, though her lips were smeared badly. His own curved upward, dangerously. Leaning in close, he brushed the edge of her lower lip with his tongue, tasting her like prey.

And whispered in his deep tone.

“You were asking how you looked, right? Let me tell you exactly what went through my mind when I saw you in red, descending those stairs, your eyes fixed on mine without a single hint of hesitation.”

His eyes stayed fixed on her, and he could feel the storm inside her. She was getting wild beneath his gaze. Without breaking eye contact between them, he spoke, his warm breath brushing against her lips.

SAATHIYAA……….!

“Logon ke liye laal rang maut ka paighaam hai… mere liye azaadi ka. Kyunki is laal mein, mujhe sirf tum nazar aati ho, meri Jaan.” (For others, the color red is a message of death… but for me, it means freedom. Because in this red, all I see is you, my Jaana.)